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The End
The life that had been given to this man was, as many would describe it, dreadful. Slavery, torture, having his children sent away never to be seen again and finally it was going well. He and his wife had finally settled on a small farm after the prohibition of slavery following the Civil War. They sold cattle, they farmed, it was one of the best lives to be given to a former slave but still the man wasn't happy. His wife had passed away about four years after purchasing the land. He'd gotten money from her passing but it wasn't a dollar sign he was after, it was an end to his misery. One morning he woke from a nightmare, sweating heavily and breathing hard. He was an older African-American man, with graying hair and a small stubble. Around five minutes later after getting dressed in his old worn clothes he heard a soft knock on the door. It was likely his farm hand, who was one of the most timid boys he knew. He opened it and saw standing there, but not alone. He was standing with a tall man in a black suit, with a stern look on his face and the soft breeze blowing his dark hair. "He, uh, wanted to talk to ya, sir." the farm hand said nervously as he turned and walked back out towards the cattle. "Morning, sir, my name is Donovan MacFarlane. I see you have a nice piece of land here. And I know you must be having trouble paying for it. So I'm here to help you out of your...troubles." the tall man said with a small chuckle. "Not interested." the old man said closing the door, but not before Donovan held it open with his large foot. The old man looked up at Donovan. "Move your foot before things gotta get violent." Donovan chuckled and opened the door back up with little strain. The old man finally let go as Donovan stepped inside his small house and pushed the man out of his way. "I will get this land, old man, and if you will not sell then I will make these next few weeks a living hell for you before I will finally end your miserable existence and take this farm." Donovan said coldly before turning and walking away. The old man let out a deep sigh and sat down in the wooden chair behind him. His young farm hand Jimmy walked in. "What was that all about, sir?" "Nothing, boy, just some guy proposing somethin' that ain't happenin'." Jimmy slightly nodded his head and walked back out. "Wait, boy." Jimmy quickly turned around and walked back to the door. "Listen, we need to find a way to get some money 'round here. Because I am gonna lose this farm." "Yeah, sir, what about...maybe...adding more animals?" "That won't do it, everyone sells animals. We got the Marstons up north, MacFarlanes over down by the railroad. Hell even the Williamsons are begininning to sell. And they all got a whole lot more money and space." They both sit in silence for a few moments. And after days of working and thinking they come up with idea after idea. All failing in one way or another. Two days later the old man is sitting in his rocking chair on his small rotting porch. He takes a sip of his water before a loud gunshot cracks by his ear and goes through the window just to the right of his head. He jumps up and upon running to the door a few feet away trips and falls into the wall. He rolls around to get up but stops and waits. Jimmy comes running out of the small shed near the house and grabs the old man by the arm and forces him into the house. "He wasn't trying to kill me. He was trying to show he could." "Was it Donovan?" "I'd bet a lot on it, boy. We need to be safe and stay indoors for a while." "Maybe we should get the sheriff. I can ride down, get 'em up here by noon." The old man shakes his head. "No badge can help me now. No proof it's Donovan. I'm just waiting to die like this though. We need guns, boy, ammo." "I-I dont have none, sir." The old man looks intently at Jimmy. "I do though, boy. And if they come back it will be a bloodbath. Just not sure who's gonna be bleeding." The next morning the old man sat in his old rocker, cleaning his rifle. He heard a hard knock on the door. He sighed and sat up, walked toward the door with an angry look on his face and opened it. "Morning, sir. Nice seeing you again." Donovan said as he looks at the broken window and grins. The old man without thinking grabs the rifle off the table and aims it at the man. "Ride off now, you're not getting my farm. And if I ever see you or any one of your little minions 'round here again I will not hesitate to use this. " Donovan chuckles softly. "You act so tough. It's cute. 24 hours. That's how long I am giving you to let go of your little hero fantasy and come to your senses. If not I will pull out your weak little spine and shove it down your throat, do you hear me?" The old man stood in silence as Donovan smirked and walked out. The next morning the old man awoke suddenly from a nightmare. He was sweating and lied there thinking for a moment before getting up. He walked outside. The warm sun felt good but he had no time to enjoy it. He walked to the small wooden barn. With a hole in the top of the door and a few large cracks around sides, it was nothing impressive. He opened the door but upon pulling on it got an unexpected sight. A beaten and unconsious Jimmy. He was lying on the floor with a black eye, bleeding forehead, busted lip and several cuts and bruises. "God damn." the old man said as he walked slowly to the young man. From behind a stack of hay a middle aged man in a trench coat holding a rifle walked out, pointing it towards the old man. "So, old man, are you ready to give up your farm?" the man asked with a evil look in his eye. Jimmy sat up , dazed, and looked up to the man, who's back was facing him. He got to his knees and grabbed the mans feet and pulled back. The man kept his balance but the old man quickly grabbed the pitch fork, which was leaning on the post next to him and stabbed it through the mans chest. The man looked down at the pitch fork then fell over rather quickly. The old man ran over to the injured young farm hand and pulled him up. They ran to the house as a sniper bullet rang past their ears and hit the small house in which they were heading. They continued and fell down into the house upon opening the door. The window was then shot out again, glass pieces flying onto the two. "Get up, boy. Grab a gun. Now!" Jimmy hesitantly rose to his feet and grabbed the double barrel shotgun which was sitting on the small desk near the door. "Boy watch out!" A bullet flew through the window, hitting Jimmy in the leg. He let out a scream of pain as he fell down. The old man had no time to help as a shotgun blast blew his door handle off. He grabs his rifle and fires it as a man walks in. Another follows, this one's pistol hitting the old man in the arm. However he still manages to fire and hit the man in the chest. Another comes through but the old man fires to quick shots, hitting him in the leg, then the head. No one comes in for a moment. The old man lets out a sigh but before he can set his gun down, Donovan walks in holding a semi-automatic pistol. He quickly fires two shots, hitting the old man twice in the chest. The old man stumbles back against the wall and slides down it. Donovan chuckles. "Shame it had to happen like this, old man. But I warned you." He turns to Jimmy, who is still on the ground in pain. "Sorry, kid, no witnesses." he fires one shot to Jimmy's head. He then turns to the old man. "You're a tough one. But hey, you still went down. Shame about my men, however. But the pawns have to go first I suppose." He aims his gun at the old man and smirks. The next morning, law enforcement have been alerted and are already at the farm. A young deputy walks out of the house. "Marshal Johnson, sir." "Yes, Eli?" "Two dead, old man and a young kid, I'd say 19 or 20." Donovan arrives on horseback and hops off. "Marshal, how ya doin'?" "Fine, Don, you?" "Just dandy. So, I reckon this area is for sale now, right?" "I suppose. Shame what happened to the previous owners." "Yep, but hey, the end is never easy." he chuckles.